Braelin led the way into the cottage, which had also undergone some changes since last Jurao saw it.
Seating had been arranged around the hearth - a simple couch and chairs with a rug beneath them. The upper loft had a railing with a wall that turned the front into a walkway. Several doors indicated partitioned-off rooms that hadn’t been there previously. The pantry had also been finished, and a slightly worn dining table with matching chairs was set on a nearby rug. There also appeared to be a partitioned-off room in the space under the loft.
“There isn’t much,” Braelin said, “But there are rooms enough for everyone, and the pantry is stocked, so you should be in good shape.”
“‘We’ should be in good shape?” Ayelma asked, collapsing onto one of the chairs around the hearth with a sigh, “Don’t you stay here?”
“No,” Braelin replied, taking a seat on the couch, “I stay in Jurao’s suite.”
Ayelma made a noise much like choking, sitting up in surprise, “You what?”
Meir’ril half-fell onto the other side of the couch, looking stunned as well.
“Not like you ever cared if people talked,” Owren grumbled, taking stock of the pantry supplies, “Still, seems a bit soon for you…”
“I’ll cook something,” Braelin said, making to stand.
Owren waved him off, setting his cane against the wall, “You’ll cut up some raw vegetables and greens and call it a meal, bah! No, sit. I’ll do a real job of it.”
“Alright, uncle,” Braelin sighed, settling back into his seat.
Since the furniture had been made for human proportions, Jurao chose to sit on the floor next to his partner, “Is that soon.”
“Oh,” Braelin said, “Demons have different views on appropriate courtship behavior.”
“Sure,” Ayelma nodded, starting to grin, “I’m just… surprised you would be… living with someone romantically.”
“You said you weren’t interested in that sort of thing,” Meir’ril frowned.
“I wasn’t,” Braelin agreed, “Neither was Jurao.”
“That’s true,” the King nodded, smiling, “Enough so that everyone else seemed aware of my feelings before I was. Excepting Braelin, of course.”
His gardener nodded, “I would not have caught on if I hadn’t been given… many hints from the other Staff Heads. And Morvvan.”
“Morvvan?” Ayelma asked.
“A princess,” Jurao answered, “One of the children of my predecessor.”
“But… you aren’t related?” Meir’ril asked.
“Demon succession is not necessarily hereditary,” Jurao confirmed, “I was the previous King’s General before he nominated me for the position. I can explain more, but I imagine you all have much to catch up on.”
“Yes! Right,” Ayelma nodded, “We left off when… we made it to the Gresma border, right!”
“We made our way to the coast from there,” Mer’ril said, “The Middle Sea Coast, that is - Uncle didn’t think our neighbor was far enough.”
“And I was right, wasn’ I?” Owren grumbled, bringing supplies to the hearth kitchen, “Ferrick marryin’ one of their princesses within the month to solidify an alliance, makin’ sketchy trade deals… bah…”
Ayelma rolled her eyes, “So we managed to pay for a boat ride round the curve to Mariesa. Lived in a coastal town for about a year - more refugees joined us as the civil war started up. Left with them when the town kicked us out - though mostly because Ferrick’s men came sniffing about for us.”
“Not much to say past that,” Meir’ril sighed, “We traveled with the other refugees all the way down the curve until we settled in Vede a few months ago.”
“The curve,” Jurao asked.
“Mm,” Braelin nodded, “The Human Realm is divided into two continents - the bigger one has an ocean in the middle of it like a ring. ‘Round the curve’ just means following around the coast of it, either by boat or foot.”
“Ah,” the Demon King nodded.
“Was… was that a question?” Ayelma snorted.
“Yes,” Jurao nodded, “I know most people have trouble telling when I mean to ask one.”
“It usually makes sense in context,” Braelin frowned.
“But anyway,” Meir’ril cleared his throat, “What about you, Braelin?”
“Ah,” Braelin looked down at his lap, “Yes.”
Jurao reached out in surprise at the reaction - he hadn’t seen his partner in distress since the first week the man had arrived, but then, he hadn’t asked after his past, either. The Demon King rested a hand on his gardener’s shoulder, hoping it helped in some way.
Braelin leaned into the contact, still watching his own hands clasped in his lap as he spoke, “After I sent you two off with Uncle, I went to check on Malson, Dad, and Eweylona. I found only Malson fighting with Ferrick in the throne room - I assume he got our parents out. Ferrick, ah… said some very cruel things and went to strike Malson with this odd spear…”
Braelin paused, rubbing at a spot on one side of his chest as he breathed in a far too controlled manner.
“Braelin?” Meir’ril, sitting next to his brother, leaned forward to put a hand on his other shoulder, concern etched onto his face.
Braelin shook his head, “I’ll be fine. I just… I took the blow for Malson, which I think finally convinced him to retreat - Beneford arrived then and held off Ferrick’s men long enough for us to do so.”
There was a clatter from the hearth.
“Sorry,” Owren huffed, “Damned artetica, is what it is… can’t hold onto a damned thing…”
“Sorry, I don’t know what happened to Beneford after that,” Braelin said, looking up briefly.
“What should that matter to me,” his uncle huffed again, picking up the spoon he’d dropped, “Captain of the Guard doing his job, protecting the royal family and… all…”
“Oh please, everyone knew you two were together, Uncle,” Ayelma rolled her eyes again, but there was a softness to it, “It’s alright to be worried about him, too - it’s not like it can affect his reputation anymore… or yours…”
“Don’t know what you mean,” Owren replied, angrily focusing on his cooking.
“In any case,” Braelin sighed, “Malson and I ended up in a little hamlet - he left me in a barn to recover while he went to find more help. Ferrick’s men showed up, and we were separated when I fled.
“I… don’t really remember much else clearly,” Braelin shrugged, “I kept on the move as much as I could. Eventually, when I was running from Ferrick’s men, I slipped through a minor rift and ended up in the castle gardens here.”
“And then the King found you?” Ayelma asked.
“I was away at the time,” Jurao replied, “I only found Braelin when I returned - approximately ten years after his arrival.”
“Ten years?” Meir’ril asked.
“The gardens hid me from everyone so I could take care of them,” Braelin explained, “But they can’t disobey Jurao, so as soon as he returned and saw how healthy they were…”
“I forced them to reveal their caretaker,” Jurao nodded, giving his partner’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “Braelin explained some of the situation to me, and I appointed him as Royal Gardener for all his hard work.”
“That’s it,” Braelin nodded.
“You lived in the gardens for ten years?” Ayelma demanded.
“That’s the part you’re surprised about?” Owren huffed, “Don’t know how many nights I dragged the fool boy inside…”
Meir’ril chuckled, “Yes, that’s certainly the most believable part of the story for me.”
“Well, you did spend more time in the gardens back home than I did,” Ayelma sighed, then frowned, “Not that it’s home anymore, I guess…”
“Ah,” Meir’ril cleared his throat, sitting back again, “Do, ah, demons have mounts…?”
His sister did seem to perk up at the question.
“Yes,” Jurao replied, “Though not many use them - very difficult to train. Maned Hornhounds, that is.”
“Hounds?” Ayelma asked, sitting forward.
Jurao nodded, taking his hand back at last, “Yes - I believe the stable has a litter ready for new riders. I’m sure they could spare one mount - Braelin mentioned you were fond of riding.”
“Well, I suppose it would be something to do,” Ayelma said, “Since we’re staying.”
“And we won’t have to worry about Ferrick’s men,” Mer’ril agreed.
However, both statements were spoken uncertainly - with both twins gauging Jurao’s reaction.
“Of course,” the Demon King stated, “And the library is open to you, Mer’ril. Though perhaps it would be good to assign you all guards…”
“Guards?” Owren huffed, “Boy, come over here! Don’t have the arms to carry all this…”
Braelin smiled and got to his feet, walking over to help put what appeared to be some kind of stewed bird over plates of salad, “Could you do two separated plates, uncle?”
“He’s like you then, eh?” Owren snorted, waving his nephew off.
Braelin chuckled and brought the two plates for his siblings over first.
“Oh! We haven’t had meat in forever!” Ayelma declared, eagerly accepting her plate and digging in.
Meir’ril was slightly more gracious about his eagerness.
Braelin returned for two more plates with bowls under them, retaking his seat and offering one to Jurao. The birds and salad had been separated for them, which the King was grateful for.
“Oh, thank you,” the Demon King said, having planned to do without.
Owren brought his plate over, his other hand taken up by his cane. He sat in the remaining chair with a scoff, “Doubt it’ll fit a kingly palette, but I don’ let folk go hungry whilst I eat.”
“I wasn’t born a noble,” Jurao replied, “I’m sure it will suit me well enough.”
“You aren’t a noble?” Ayelma asked, “Er, weren’t?”
“My mothers were beast hunters, and when they passed, I was raised by my aunt - she’s a smith in the castle,” Jurao explained - trying the food, he found it quite good indeed, “When I was old enough, I joined the army. Worked my way up the ranks.”
“Makes more sense than anythin’ else,” Owren huffed, digging into his own meal. This close, Jurao noticed the way the fingers of his left hand were bent at an angle away from his thumb - artetica indeed, “Don’t see why else a noble would be interested in this one…”
“Excepting Baroness Everyn,” Ayelma laughed.
“Who?” Braelin frowned.
“Forget that old tale,” Owren said, “What was this business about guards?”
“As you might expect, demon sentiments are not… favorable towards humans,” Jurao cleared his throat, “Braelin has been the target of many attacks since his appointment.”
“Really?” Meir’ril asked, looking concerned.
“It’s the demon way of things,” Braelin supplied, “Guards are generally meant to repel external attacks, not prevent internal ones.”
“That’s true,” Jurao nodded, “But if I specifically ask, they will act to protect individuals. I’m not sure if the antagonistic sentiment will be as strong at this point, but as a precaution…”
“You should be safe in the gardens on your own,” Braelin added, “They protect me well enough, after all. Oh, I should introduce you later.”
“To the gardens?” Ayelma laughed.
“Yes, exactly,” Braelin said, “They’re very kind. I’m sure they’ll be happy to meet you properly.”
“And what’s this patch around the cottage?” Owren demanded.
“Human plants,” Braelin replied.
“I’ll take over that, then,” his uncle sniffed, “You’ve got a proper job, and I’m ready to be retired after all the fuss.”
“Of course, uncle,” Braelin said, “I’ll walk you through when you’ve had time to settle in.”
“Tomorrow,” Owren said, “It’ll keep. And you need to find some people to train to do your job.”
“Yes, uncle,” Braelin chuckled.
Jurao smiled as the idle conversation went on - seeing his partner this comfortable in conversation with others was nice. And to know that at least some of the man’s worries had been lightened.
I wonder if he would tell me more about what happened later, the Demon King thought. He vaguely remembered Kloy mentioning Braelin having an old wound, but he hadn’t seen it for himself. He supposed that might have been on purpose, considering how it upset his partner earlier.
“I believe I should head back to work,” Jurao said after finishing his meal. It was very light fare for someone his size, but that was fine occasionally. He reached out to tousle Braelin’s hair as he stood, “I’ll see you later - but feel free to skip the evening meal if you prefer.”
“See you later,” Braelin agreed with a smile.
“Aw,” Ayelma said, then laughed, “You really are courting!”
“Of course, that’s why we said we were?” Braelin replied.
Jurao smiled as he left his plate and bowl on the kitchen counter, listening to the family banter as he went to return to work as he’d said.
